


I Is Not Stupid!

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-15
Updated: 2006-05-15
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Daphne is a student teacher blowing off steam by complaining to Justin about her students.





	I Is Not Stupid!

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

“Please tell me why I decided to go into teaching?” Daphne asked, as she dropped her pen onto the pile of papers resting before her.

“Because you’re a glutton for punishment?” Justin asked with a grin, turning back to the steak he was marinating.

“They’re in high school, Justin! And they’re writing things like, and I quote, ‘As Americans, we have the right to bare arms.’ Bare! B-A-R-E!”

“Well, that _is_ true,” he replied with a laugh.

“Then explain this. ‘George Washington had wooden teeth. I don’t know what happened to his real ones. They must have fallen out. Anyway, that’s why there are no photos of him smiling.’”

“Also, it could have had something to do with the lack of cameras.” He slid the dish into the refrigerator, then joined Daphne at the kitchen table. “Let me see.”

“Be my guest.” Daphne slid the stack of uncorrected papers over to him, then feigned slamming her head against the table before resting it on her arms, millimeters from the table’s surface.

“These kids are geniuses.” Justin flipped over one paper and began laughing as he read the next one.

“Do I even want to know?” Daphne asked, her voice muffled.

“ ‘When Mount Vesuvius exploded, many people burned to deaf.’ ”

“Jesus Christ! What the hell! I’m seriously re-thinking this as a possible career. I’m just a student teacher right now, I could always just keep going to school and end up being a professor or something . . . because at least then I’d be dealing with adults—“

“Theoretically.”

“—And adults know the difference between ‘deaf’ and ‘death.’ And they’ll actually want to be there, so they’ll pay attention.”

“And how mature were we all of, oh, two years ago?”

“Shut up. But it’s like they don’t want to learn. I tell them the same things over and over again. I try to teach them how to write logical sentences, and do they take it to heart? No. They’re all, ‘um, dude, this is history. Why’ve we gotta write complete sentences? Or sentences that use the right words?’”

“Lovely. You know, I’m glad I’ve chosen a career path that is more or less solitary.”

“You know, the other day I heard two girls fighting in the hall, and all of a sudden one screamed, ‘I is not stupid!’ And I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming, ‘Yes you are!’ And I feel awful about it, because I really want to teach them. I want them to learn. I don’t want them going out into the world, full of righteous indignation about things they know nothing about. You know the type.”

“The ‘you can tell me I’m wrong, I don’t care, cause even if I am, I’ll still find people to believe and worship me’ types?”

“Yeah. If they have people believe in them, and worship them, then it should be because they deserve it, not because they convince people they’re the victims of unwarranted criticism. Because I want them to be the best.”

“Makes sense. But you’re not going to get them all. That’s just how it is. Like this girl here. ‘Lincoln was president in 1860-something. He freed the slaves. Then someone shot him. And that’s all you really need to know about Lincoln.’ I’m sure if you’d told her to do some research she’d have said there was no reason to, that she already knew everything, and that even if she didn’t, it wouldn’t really matter, because people’d know what she meant anyway.”

“Exactly! How can they not want to know what they’re actually talking about?”

“First thing you need to know about dealing with people, Daphne,” Brian remarked as he stepped into the kitchen and headed for the fridge, “is that there will always be stupid ones who see nothing wrong with remaining that way.”

“I know.” She sighed again, then began gathering her papers and shoving them into her bag. “I should get home. Jeff’s probably wondering where I am.”

“And how’s that going?” Justin asked, standing and swiping the beer Brian held, taking a long drink before returning it to him.

“Good. Beth’s starting to like me, so . . .”

“Getting the hang of being a step mommy?”

“I’m not her stepmother, Brian, so stop being an ass,” Daphne replied with a laugh. “She’s a cute kid. It’s hard not to like her.”

“Let’s just hope she doesn’t turn into one of those little idiot monster children you’re currently teaching.”

“Just for that, you’re moving up on the list of babysitters.” She smiled at him sweetly, then quickly said her goodbyes and left.

“Your best friend is an evil bitch.”

“Ah, true, but you’ve known that for a long time.”

“Evil bitches usually stay in teaching just to torment their students.”

“You don’t really think she’s an _evil_ bitch, though.” Justin reached forward, bunching the hem of Brian’s shirt in his hand and pulling the other man forward.

“I give her six months before she decides to become an anesthesiologist simply because people are easier to deal with when they’re unconscious.”

“A year. But only because she’ll feel obligated to stay.”

“And what does the winner get?”

“Veto power over which pinball machine is going in the game room,” Justin replied with a smirk. “We’re not having that fucking _Gilligan’s Island_ pinball machine in this house.”

“And you’re so sure you’ll win?”

“Who’s known the evil bitch longer?” Justin arched his eyebrow in imitation of Brian, then waited until a slow smile broke out across the other man’s lips before leading him out of the kitchen and toward the staircase.


End file.
